


Cookie, Milk and Strawberry Jam

by The_Spaghetti_Incident



Category: Powerpuff Girls
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:41:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29969289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Spaghetti_Incident/pseuds/The_Spaghetti_Incident
Summary: "Well, I take whatever I want, and babe, I want you." Brick wants Blossom's cookie, but she is not inclined to give in, so he decides to just take it from her. DARK! Non-con! Blossick!>>> If you don't fucking like it, don't fucking click/read (that goes especially for that retarded, Repip400, who read through the whole story even though she hates darkfic, lol) <<<
Relationships: Brick/Blossom Utonium
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Cookie, Milk and Strawberry Jam

**Author's Note:**

> At first, I planned something a lot simpler and none too graphic, but hey, it's me, what did you expect? And it actually turned out a lot darker than I intended – which is awesome since we really need more dark-themed Blossick stories.
> 
> Warning: Despite the seemingly innocent name, this is no fluff or romance.
> 
> Needless to say, but "cookie" and "milk" mean something else entirely in this story.
> 
> This dark themes for Blossom and Brick fits them so well, in my opinion. Honestly, their ship nickname is Blossick for a reason, huh?

Blossom didn't think she would ever forget such pain.

It was a pain that she had never experienced before – it was too intimate, too raw, too violent. It was something she had never been taught how to handle, and it came so suddenly, in a way she couldn't quite understand.

Blossom was strong – or so she liked to think she was –, but Brick's first thrust was all it took to break her. That single, well-angled, hard shove had rendered her completely powerless. Brick had crushed her, and she had split and cracked in a million, tiny crumbs on the ground.

She shrieked, a nearly deafening sound, as she felt her tender flesh stretch and tear around his girth, and there was no holding back the tears – which she had honestly not even tried to do. They spilled like rain on the grass.

As he began moving, a hole made itself inside of her, and something was suddenly missing. Perhaps her soul, that had died the moment he forced her down and took her – ripped her off her dignity.

She closed her eyes, sinking in pitch darkness, and his voice resonated in her mind.

_'Well, I take whatever I want, and babe, I want you.'_

He was right. He took whatever he wanted, and he simply got away with it, as he always had, mindlessly and meaninglessly destroying, and disfiguring everything on his path – just as he was doing to her.

Blossom's fingers curled in the dirt beneath her bruised hands, digging in the soil as she tried to hold onto something – anything – that could help her gain, even if remotely, some sense of control in a situation where she had none. A situation where she was deprived of any choice or support and was instead welcomed by unspeakable violence and excruciating pain.

She gritted her teeth and scrunched her muscles in instinctive defense, seeking relief, but still found none. The pain hadn't subsided, quite the opposite. It had only aggravated as the redhead on top of her pressured down with all of his weight, thrusting in with sheer strength between the tense, tightened muscles of her walls.

He was heavy. Heavens, he was so heavy, and so much bigger than she was. His thrusts crushed her against the ground and left her nearly breathless. Between the pulls and pushes of her body, she had little to no time to catch up her breath. The crying and sobbing didn't help either. She felt suffocated, gasping desperately, but it was as if the air could not fully reach her lungs.

Blossom was in complete, utter panic, gripping the ground as she tried to pull herself from beneath him, but a strong, large hand over the back of her head stopped her, pressing her face down on the dirt. His hands pressed forcefully everywhere on her – hips, waist, back –, and marked the delicate skin, internally bruising her soft flesh.

She thrashed under him, and it made him laugh – a deep, low laugh that echoed darkly through the forest. Blossom's display of fight and will power did nothing but amuse him, and after a while, upon noticing it, she went limp, crying quietly as she decided that perhaps it was better if she just let him do what he wanted. This way, at least, she wouldn't waste – more than she already had – the little energy she had left in her on a battle she had no means to win.

Brick wasn't having any of it, though.

So, he rammed into her – the hardest and deepest he could –, forcing out of her a blood-curdling scream that created rushes of pleasure through his whole body as his skin crawled at the nearly numbing feeling.

That was precisely what he wanted – the very vocal and visible confirmation of her suffering. He wanted her screams and squirms, and thrashes and wails – and tears and blood. He wanted to feel her tiny, slender, feminine frame struggling in pain and despair as she fervently tried to worm herself from beneath his huge body as he violated her.

Violation.

He loved that word. He loved everything it represented and the notion – and sight – that this was what he was doing to Blossom. That he had her down and vanquished, fruitlessly fighting back as he carelessly made use of her body, doing to her whatever he wished to – touching, groping, scratching, and biting.

Brick gripped her hips, digging his fingers and nails on her skin, pulling at it so hard that the area became reddened, as he jerked her back and forth onto his dick – the continuous, forceful friction of his phallus quickly wearing out the soft tissue of her vaginal canal, intensifying the pain.

Blossom learned that she wasn't as resilient as she once thought she was, but she was definitely persistent, because between cries and grunts, she still tried to crawl out of his reach – or, at least, just enough to get his penis out of her for a few seconds –, but again, he stopped her, sliding one hand up to her upper back.

He pressed his hand down, using her torso as support for his weight as he pushed into her. He put in too much unnecessary strength – with no other intent but to hurt her –, crushing her lungs so hard that Blossom couldn't breathe again, and she was sure that, at any moment, her rib cage would give in and crack – if it hadn't already.

Being unable to breathe strangely awoke her senses, and suddenly, she could feel him so very vividly. He was fast and hard, pummeling into her with a strength that made her believe that she would throw up her insides. She trashed with her arms when she felt a snap inside of her, followed by a deep, penetrating ache, and she tried to scream, despite being crushed by him, but she only managed a few choked coughs.

Blossom was on fire. Perhaps not literally, but she most certainly felt as if Brick had set her afire. He just emanated a blistering, burning heat that reached everywhere – her lungs and every other organ, his blazing dick inside of her, his flaming hands on her skin.

Between desperate gasps, Blossom mumbled a plea for air, as she felt dizziness quickly creep over her, and Brick complied – not out of worry, most certainly, but because he needed and wanted her conscious through the whole process of dehumanization of the PowerPuffs' leader.

Now that her airways were free, Brick could hear her cries and groans much clearer, and it seemed to fuel his depravity as he clutched Blossom closer to him and buried himself inside of her – now completely covering her body with his as he lay fully flat on top of her. He pulled her head back by her hair and touched his mouth against her ear, grunting shamelessly in contrast to her pitiful sobs.

He wanted her to hear it, loud and clear, and he wanted the sound to stay with her forever – and it would. He wanted it to be the twisted lullaby to which she would fall asleep to when she was alone and scared in her dark, cold room.

All those sounds were too much for her – her desperate wails, his hoarse moans, their skin slapping against each other each time he sunk inside of her. They nearly pained her – his, mostly. It barely sounded human. It was animalistic and filled with hate and tinges of well-savored revenge.

Brick was enjoying himself – he wanted her to know that –, and God, she could feel on her body just how much. He forced pain into her, imposing his fury and rage on her helpless form with each cruel jab of his hip, and he made her aware – so very aware – of how deep inside he was, forcing disturbingly inward even after he had reached her limit.

Blossom screamed, and Brick shivered in sheer ecstasy, loving all the dramatic noise she unwillingly awarded him with.

Distraction was not an option – not when he kept her so focused on the pain and the vile words he began pouring over her. He whispered, so low and venomously, into her ear – almost as if they were a twisted, disturbing version of lovers –, describing in despicable, foul language the things he was doing to her and how much damaged he imagined she'd be after he was done with her.

He taunted her with remarks that had no other purpose but to demean her – to make her feel shame for something that was out of her control –, and he loved the pathetic, defeated response she gave in form of whimpers and weeps. He told her over and over – and even forced her to repeat a few times – just how weak and deplorable she was, and she even believe him a little.

"Sweet, little Blossom has finally bloomed," he mocked, his voice deep and husky – almost seductive. "Not so innocent anymore, dont'cha think?" He laughed – a sound as equally wicked as someone who would amuse at such heinous, unforgivable crime –, and Blossom's stomach churned at the thought.

"Ple—please," she stuttered, and he laughed again.

"My beautiful, deflowered… Blossom… you don't have to beg for my love."

Except it wasn't love he offered.

He hadn't filled her with sloppy kisses or forced caresses. He hadn't wanted to feign passion or act on the pretense of unrequited love. He wanted to assert his dominance over the magnificent, bloodied angel under him, through striking violence and consuming fear. He wanted his strength, power, and control to be completely perceptible just by the way he had bent down the mighty Blossom and outrageously fucked her bloody.

Everything hurt, and she just wanted it to stop. It was all just too overwhelming – Brick and everything he did.

The pain was constant and awful, and it felt physically unbearable, but the worst part, was still being so absolutely cognizant of each little, unscrupulous thing he was saying and doing to her. That was the real nightmare – the act as a whole and what it meant and represented. It revoked her claim on her own body, it took away her ability to make choices of her own, and it deprived her of will and humanity – as if she were nothing but a plastic plaything designed solely for his pleasure.

And above all, it destroyed her psychological. That horrific act had a hideous, scarring effect that would never, ever leave her. It was carved deep inside her brain and soul – branded on her essence. It would walk side by side with her for the rest of her life, and it would be there whenever she looked on the mirror, or when she undressed or bathed – she would always remember it.

Brick parted slightly from her, and absently looked down between them, watching mesmerized the blood covering his dick as he thrusted in. He halted, suddenly, and diverted his attention to the smeared blood on her thigh, sliding slid his index finger on it – making Blossom quiver at the contact. In a trance, he took it to his mouth and licked, closing his eyes as he savored her.

"Hmm, strange," he commented, in a mix of confusion and surprise. "Always though it would taste like iron," he slid his finger on her again, this time between her folds, collecting the blood and licked it for the second time, "but you taste of tainted purity."

Blossom couldn't see what he was doing – her head being flat on the ground, turned to the side –, but she could imagine as she heard him slurp, and it made her nauseous and light-headed.

"And gratifying conquest," he added.

A conquest indeed. Blossom had fought fiercely with every inch of her strength before going down, and it made everything even more fulfilling for him. Even if he could choose, he wouldn't have it another way, really. He had her just as he wanted – unwillingly and wounded.

Brick began moving again, and Blossom was motionless. She still cried, but no longer struggled, and strangely enough, that didn't seem to bother him anymore, because either way, he got what he wanted. She had put up one hell of a fight before and he had had his fun as he traced the path to claim what had always meant to be his.

When he was finally done, Blossom felt full, and weirdly at the brim of exploding as Brick filled her up with abnormal amount of thick fluid that dripped out and coated her bruised entrance. And with that final touch, he had completely obliterated her dignity and destroyed her spirit – he left her with nothing –, which was exactly what he aimed for, and what he had been created to do.

He brushed her disheveled red hair from her damp, blood-stained cheek. "Babe, you gotta be the best fuck I ever had… and believe me, I had many—none like you, though." He stood up, pulling back his pants.

He gave Blossom one last look, watching her curl protectively into herself and wail in despair as she mourned what was taken from her. Then, he left, without another word and fully satisfied – certain of how all the filthy, horrible things he said and did would haunt her forever.

Now, her cookie was left in crumbles among the fillings of splattered milk and strawberry jam.

_**03/10/2021** _

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to play with the words "cookie", "milk" and "strawberry". Hopefully, if you're as sick as I am, you managed to understand what the words actually stand for.
> 
> This will be my last stop on PPG fandom – for a while only (or not, I don't know, I change my mind a lot). I'll be working on some FF7 and Naruto stories, then I'll come back to PPG. I might try to work a bit on chapter two of Scalding Demon in the meanwhile, but I make no promises. I already have a few drafts for chapter two, and a lot of ideas, but I really needed to write this one first. The idea was just stuck on my mind and I really love dark Blossick.
> 
> I have a lot of ideas for Blossick in the future (some are very DARK though, so, a lot of you may not like it, but it is what I have to offer).
> 
> If you read through all of this, I'd be very thankful if you left some feedback (unless you're going to be a little bitch like Repip400, then just fuck off.)


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